Hit Rewind

Caitlin

I lie on my back, too tired to roll onto my side and too big now to lie on my stomach.

Everyone at school knows by now, knows that I'm pregnant with Michael's child.

My alarm clock goes off, and I moan pathetically, wondering if I could pretend like I didn't hear it.

I'm always tired, tired, tired. I'm tired of the stares and whispers that follow me. I'm tired of throwing up and lugging my four-months pregnant belly everywhere with me. I'm tired of everyone telling me that I'm not ready to be a mom.

I know I'm not ready. I don't think anyone is ready until they're thrown headfirst into the ocean of parenthood.

Michael is willing to stand by me though, and that's the only opinion besides my parents' that I care about.

He took an extra job to try to stockpile money before the baby comes. Even before we know the gender of the baby, he comes in with a little shirt that he thought was cute.

We're both taking a parenting class to prepare ourselves for the world of dirty diapers, feedings, throw-up, and everything else that we're about to enter.

I still haven't told him about the remote I requested though, and I don't believe I will. He's still too scared about being like his dad, and I'm afraid that he would run for the hills if he knew what he had done the first time.

If he knew what I had done.

Now, I really have to get out of bed, despite the fact that I'd rather curl up in my blanket-enclosed corner of the world.

The alarm clock is still blaring, and my bladder's about to explode.

I'm considering how best to get out of bed (whether to just roll off onto my back or actually try to get up like a normal person) when my phone rings on the nightstand.

I grab, place it on my stomach, and answer the call. "Can we hurry the conversation? I got to pee."

"What happened to 'hello, this is Caitlin, your extremely beautiful girlfriend?' Have I truly been reduced to the status where the bathroom is more important?" Michael asks.

"Unless we're both seahorses, you're not carrying the baby, and you have no idea what the kid's doing to my bladder. So, yes, right now the bathroom is more important."

He sighs like he's upset, but I can hear the struggle that it takes for him not to laugh. "My mom wanted to know whether you were going shopping for nursery stuff with your mom and her tomorrow. Apparently, your dad and I haven't been invited to join."

I giggle. "Is my boyfriend upset about not going with all the girls? Does he actually like to shop?"

"Hey, I never said that," he protests. "I just think it's unfair that the three of you are allowed to get together, but us guys aren't doing anything."

"Why don't you ask him?"

"Ask him what?" Michael answers.

I close my eyes. "Ask my dad if he want to do something tomorrow while the girls are shopping. He doesn't bite, Michael."

The line goes silent, and for a long while, I wonder if I said the wrong thing.

"Cait," he whispers, voice raspy as if he is struggling not to cry, "I'll try. It's just...I never knew my dad and I'm going to be one and in a weird way, your dad's going to become mine. It scares me to think of it and to think of being alone with a person who cares about you and about our baby."

My heart aches and I wish I could reach through the phone and hug him. "My dad loves you almost as much as if you were his own son. He knows that the blame for what happened that night is on both of us, and he loves us both in spite of it. Try talking to him, Michael. I promise you, he's nothing like the man who left your mother."

"I know."

"I love you, Michael Jacobs. I think I've known it forever, and I know you," I tell him, voice heavy with emotion and feeling the start of tears prickling at my eyes. "I think if we make it through this, we will be ready for anything we might face.

"I want to grow old with you, marry you, have more babies with you. I know we're still young, that people don't believe that we understand what love is, but I see it every time you look at me or talk about our baby."

My voice cracks, and the tears flood out as sobs overcome my body.

"Caitlin, honey, are you okay?" Michael asks, voice cutting through my crying.

I swab at my eyes. "I hate these hormones. I'm way too emotional."

That surprises a laugh out of him. "I love you too, Caitlin. See you late, beautiful."

"See you, handsome," I whisper back.

Progress with 2539

Note: Next time, I prefer a less mushy case. All the crying is affecting me. Crap, I'm getting tears all over my report. Signing out for now.